But he was always lookingforward to a time when he might get a glimpse of the island of Hy-Brasail,and make his way to it.One day when all the fleet of fishing-boats was out for the herringfishery, and Kirwan among them, the fog came in closer and closer, and hewas shut apart from all others. His companion in the boat--or dory-mate,as it would be called in New England--had gone to cut bait on boardanother boat, but Kirwan could manage the boat well enough alone. Long hetoiled with his oars toward the west, where he fancied the rest of thefleet to be; and sometimes he spread his little sprit-sail, steering withan oar--a thing which was, in a heavy sea, almost as hard as rowing. Atlast the fog lifted, and he found himself alone upon the ocean. He hadlost his bearings and could not tell the points of the compass. Presentlyout of a heavy bank of fog which rose against the horizon he saw whatseemed land. It gave him new strength, and he worked hard to reach it; butit was long since he had eaten, his head was dizzy, and he lay down on thethwart of the boat, rather heedless of what might come. Growing weaker andweaker, he did not clearly know what he was doing. Suddenly he started up,for a voice hailed him from above his head. He saw above him the highstern of a small vessel, and with the aid of a sailor he was helped onboard.
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